


Dark Comes Down

by zombiekittiez



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU parallel to episode 4ish, Alternate Universe, Dark Betty, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, I know, Mild Language, POV First Person, Paranormal, Retelling, bad with tags, bughead - Freeform, but it works - Freeform, mild violence, other stuff, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-09-30 07:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10157333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiekittiez/pseuds/zombiekittiez
Summary: “What are we going to do about this?” Betty was already leaning against my locker after school and I tried not to sigh and look put out, but honestly, I wasn't trying very hard.“I don't know that there's anything we can do about thisparticular personal problem,” I said emphatically. “If you hadn't noticed, Betts, Archie and the Grundster both had the spaghetti today. Loaded with garlic. And Grundy wears a gold cross, just like yours.” I tugged the chain around her neck gently and she stepped into it, so close that I could ruin my life with a breath or a word but she just kept looking at me with those eyes and - “Whatever mythos we're following here- we're in the dark. There's no way to know what's going to work and what's only going to make it worse.”Paranormal AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bughead Paranormal AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is wrong with Archie.

_Our story is about a town. A small town. And the people who live in the town. From a distance, it presents itself like so many other small towns. Safe. Decent. Innocent. Get closer, though, and you start seeing the shadows underneath. The name of our town is Riverdale._

~~

Betty walked back into my life with a swirl of pink skirts and kitten heels, hair falling softly in curls to frame her face, eyes wide and liquid, soft and lost- small town Audrey Hepburn. The jukebox was playing Clapton's “Wonderful Tonight.” I had a cheese fry halfway to my mouth.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered. 

Her head turned, attention snapped over at the sound of my voice. Her wild eyes softened a little, shoulders relaxing, and I didn't even have to ask. 

You want a small town cliché? 

The Plain Jane girl next door type, done pining, gets a makeover, Hollywood Prom style, wins the hero's heart and rides off into the sunset because, boom, turns out She Was Gorgeous All Along. 

And somehow Archie had managed to screw that up too. 

She sat down at the booth and picked up two fries, dunking them in ranch and eating them fast before it dripped. There was a little bacon bit stuck to one of her fake diamond inset fingernails. A little ranch at the corner of her mouth. Betty eats like she means it and it's my favorite thing about her. Right up there with all the other things about her. 

“You know this is the first place he's going to look.” I said flatly, grabbing another fry. 

She sighed. “I'm that predictable?” Her voice was more wry than bitter, which was an improvement. 

I half shrugged. “You always come here when you get upset like this. Must be something in the fries.”  
I snagged one more, then, with the air of a great sacrifice, slid them across the table to her. She scarfed the rest in record time. 

“Do you think I'm stupid?” Betty asked, shoving the empty plate aside. 

“Is this rhetorical, or...?” She glared and I sighed. 

“No,” I said. “I don't think you're stupid. I don't even think you're being stupid. Feelings are stupid. But having them is normal. Or so I've heard.” 

Betty fished in her purse for money but I waved her off. It didn't feel right somehow, taking junk food money from a girl a few minutes from crying. Probably bad karma or something. Better to earn some universal goodwill. I would probably need it. 

Betty stood and smoothed her skirt. “Thanks,” she said, looking back over her shoulder, down at me, so the street lights caught her glitter highlighter and she sparkled- and it should have been scripted, that look. A dozen angles it would have looked right on, and here she was wasting it on me. 

“Don't thank me for a couple of soggy fries.” I said gruffly, booting up my laptop. 

“Didn't you know?” Betty looked a bit puzzled, head tilted slightly to the side. “You're always here, so I always come here. I was looking for you.” 

And then she left. Me, mouth open, staring after her like the world's biggest jackass. After that, I was ready to read Archie the riot act. Remind him to take better care of Betty- he'd lost the lesser of his group and she was worth a little chasing. Worth an honest conversation. Worth more than cheese fries. 

Which was why my first thought, honestly, when he stumbled through the door and collapsed on the linoleum floor, was how annoyed I was for losing the chance to. 

Pop reached him first. “Archie,” Pop said, patting Archie's pale cheeks roughly. I slid beside him on my knees across the slick floor. Archie's eyes were rolled back in his head, showing whites. 

“Is he drunk?” Pop asked me. 

“He doesn't drink,” I muttered, grabbing Archie's jaw and leaning closer. There was no smell of alcohol- just a dark, unpleasant odor. What was that? It smelled a little like-

Archie gave a great gasp and shudder and then sat up straight. Pop and I both backed off as the redhead got slowly to his feet. His hair was mussed. His tie undone. He looked like hell. 

“Betty was here but she went home,” Pop blurted. He usually tried to keep out of these kinds of things- not going to be the go-to hang out spot if you rat out your steadies, but Archie was clearly freaking him out and he wanted the kid to go. 

I couldn't blame Pop. Those jerky movements- unnatural. Weird. Like he wasn't even in control of his own body. This was more than some small town drama. This was more than him rejecting the only girl who really loved him for him- before the Mr. Popular Football God thing. 

“I have to go,” Archie muttered, pushing himself to standing. 

“You want me to call your Dad?” Pop asked. Archie just shook his head and stumbled out of the building. I cursed under my breath and ran back to my table, stuffing my laptop into my bag, throwing ten bucks onto the table and running out into the night. 

Running after a best friend who never even looked back. If that wasn't a metaphor for the whole damn situation, I don't know my literary devices. 

By the time I got outside he was a distant, staggering figure by the road. He seemed to be doubled over. I jogged closer. 

“Arch,” I said coaxingly, putting my hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” 

He turned to look at me and the street was dark but a car was approaching and in the low light I saw a glint of teeth where there shouldn't be teeth. 

“Get away from me, Jug.” Archie said in a low voice. 

Thing is, I've had fights with Archie before. Never probably as bad as the one we were in now, but yeah. You're not friends from kindergarten without getting a few bruises over Decepticons and Autobots. We've shouted. Cursed. Punched each other in the eye. 

This wasn't an angry Archie voice. 

This was a scared one. 

A car stopped. I looked up. 

“Is he okay?” Miss Grundy, music teacher and high school dream boat muse leaned over to the passenger side window with her big, caring eyes. 

“Uh,” I said. 

“I'll run him home. I'd take you too, but I have too many things in the backseat.” 

The backseat was empty. 

“I can just call his Dad.” 

Archie shook his head, reached one arm out to grasp the door of the powder blue VW Bug. 

“Or.. I can take him home. Pop'll let me use his van.” 

Miss Grundy slid her glasses down her nose and _leaned_ and when she looked at me again, something in the light made her eye color seem to change- blue to violet to green. 

“He'll be fine with me. I'll take care of him. No need to worry.” 

I took a step back. 

“I'm fine, this is fine, I gotta go.” Archie wheezed, throwing himself into the passenger side seat. 

Grundy leaned over Archie and shut the door. They drove off into the night. 

“Fuck,” I said. 

Nothing interesting ever happens in small town like Riverdale. Some people leave, on football scholarships or water polo (the Aquaholics were a lot more talented than the name implied). Most stay. Maybe go off to a state school for a few years, then trickle back in- working in some dead end job until they die. Some become Serpents. Some kill themselves. 

I was a lot closer to the last two than I like to talk about until Jason Blossom drowned. 

I could see it on the faces I passed in the street. 

Why him? Why not me? What's my purpose in this small town dream? 

Almost like a steady beat, increasing in tempo, racing toward- something. 

But it wasn't just Jason. There was a new girl in school, dark and mysterious. Archie, a stranger almost overnight. I came around the keyboard and into the light. 

Everything changes. 

They found Jason's body in the water, at the edge of the woods. A gunshot wound in his head. And Betty and Archie walked to school together. Same old, same old. 

Don't mind me. Sardonic humor is just my way of relating to the world. 

I caught him staring at the display case at Jason's picture. They did look alike- red hair, sure, good builds, same numbered letterman jacket. But there was something else- some kind of appeal there. Weird. Was I the only one who noticed it? He was like that a few times- just looking. Looking at Cheryl. At Jason's picture. At Veronica. I was missing something. 

And then Betty. 

Betty crying behind the gym. Sort of my go-to spot at school. Like Pop's, I guess. I moved to lean beside her, against the wall. Handed her a napkin from my stash from the diner. 

“He was singing to me. It was really sweet.” She managed, sobbing. 

“Total cad.” I deadpanned. She laughed, then snorted into a napkin. 

“It was like he wanted something from me, though. Like I should have been feeling something- positive? I should be okay with everything, I know- it was a long time coming, but it was like he didn't want trouble? Like everything needed to be okay for some reason.” She shook her head, confusedly. “I had to get out of there.” 

“It's okay to be mad for a while. Even for you,” I said eventually, looking down at my shoes. 

“From a really reliable source,” she said, smiling. 

“You know me. Poster child for the well adjusted.” I handed her another napkin. She blew her nose messily. 

“I need to go back. I left my books. How do I look?” She stared up at me. Her eyes were still wet, her nose red. Her hair was coming loose from her ponytail around her face. Her bottom lip trembled and her neck was flushed. 

“Perfect,” I said honestly. 

She left. I headed back to the school. 

I'm an observer. I observe. So if anyone was going to see Chapter 2 in the weird Mrs. Robinson saga that was unfolding in my ex-best friend's life, it was going to be me, I guess. I don't know why I was surprised to see him in Grundy's classroom. I don't think it was seeing them together. I don't even think it was the warm embrace. It probably had something to do with her teeth in his neck. 

We talked after that. It didn't go well. 

“So she's the reason you've been acting weird since this summer?” I asked. 

“Some of it,” Archie said. And his eyes flashed in a way that made them look lighter- more golden than brown. 

20/20 vision, by the way. 

He grabbed my arm when I turned to go and his grip was hard. I'd never been so glad to see Fred Andrews in my life. Nearly made up for that whole firing my dad, ruining my life kind of thing. When I shrugged out of my shirt before bed, I saw the bruises and winced. It took almost two weeks for them to go away. 

So, like any rational minded person, I kept my distance and let the mystery go. Everything was fine. My word against his. Probably a hallucination. Nothing to see here. Nobody dead but Jason Blossom. 

Except, no, I followed the pack of morons into the student lounge free period like an idiot. To keep an eye on Archie. Like a public service. Protecting innocents and all that jazz. It had nothing to do with the blonde in the pink cardigan. 

So when Reggie started talking shit, I couldn't help it. I've known Reggie Mantle nearly as long as Archie. He put paste in my sandwich in fourth grade. Once an asshole, always an asshole. Betty's eyes were saying _not worth it._ Just sit there and let him say what he's going to say. What does it matter? In front of Archie. In front of her. 

I opened my big mouth anyway. 

“It's called necrophilia, Reggie. Can you spell it?” 

He flew over the furniture and I tensed. I was expecting a black eye, maybe. Something visually dominating. Reggie's that type. 

I was not expecting Archie Andrews to throw Reggie into the vending machine. The glass broke. Reggie had a Snickers bar stuck to his jacket. Archie stood over him. 

“Leave him alone.” Archie said. “Leave my friends alone.” His eyes went around the room once, and this time I know it wasn't the light because it was the same artificial florescent they'd used last year and his eyes had never flickered brown to gold. 

Then he gave himself a little shake and Conan the Barbarian was gone- it was just good old Archie Andrews, helping Reggie up, just dazed and freaked enough to allow it, before walking out of the door like nothing happened. 

Principal Weatherbee stuck his head in a few minutes later. 

“What happened?” He demanded. 

“I tripped,” Reggie said. He still looked dazed. 

“Over the table.” Moose said helpfully. 

“Really hard,” finished Kevin. 

The room smiled, beamed at Weatherbee and filed out, one by one. The new girl, Veronica, stood. Sipped her soda through a straw. Met my eyes on the way out. Winked. 

“What in the fuck was that?” Betty whispered. 

Our eyes met. 

“No clue,” I lied through my teeth. I fell into step beside her. Walking helps me think and I wasn't about to leave Betty alone with gun wielding murderers and weirdo hypnotic redheads wandering the streets of Riverdale. She'd be fine at home. I was pretty sure Mrs. Cooper could handle any number of serial killers and she'd been cutting Archie down to size for years. 

“Are you walking me home?” Betty asked after a few minutes of silence. 

“The Drive-In's that way. Midnight showing of Rocky Horror,” I lied again. 

“You're not good at that.” She said. 

“What?” 

“Lying. You have a tell.” I stopped, looking at her fully. 

“I do _not_ have a tell.” I was vaguely annoyed. Offended, even. 

“You do.” 

“What is it, then?” 

Betty shook her head. “Oh no. If I let you know, I'll lose my advantage.” 

“Dangerous information, there, Bets. I'm full of secrets.” I said. It came out as less of a joke than I'd intended. 

“I'm aware,” Betty said, smiling. 

Friday night football game. Why was I doing this? I was too restless to sit in the stands, faking school spirit. I told myself it was for the book. Someone needed to see the town all together. Maybe there would be something big. Or a small clue that would come to light much later. This was most definitely not to keep an eye on a certain redhead and blonde of my acquaintance and their first big game.

“I'm going to tell Weatherbee and Sheriff Keller.” Archie promised. 

“I'm not going to hug you in front of this whole town,” I said, smirking. 

In that moment, he was my friend again. That good guy who had no head for girls and just the worst priorities except when it was really important. Guy who really honestly wanted to do the right thing by everyone and just kept screwing up. I think Betty saw it too- I saw her speak to him, as he moved across the field. 

Miss Grundy saw it too, over where she was dispensing drinks. One hand rested against the heavy steel table, a relic from games long past. Good luck, they said. It took three players in their prime to set it up and tear it down each week. She was watching Archie with a little frown on her face. After a moment, she put the cup down and abruptly walked away. 

Later, when everyone had left, I waited around for Archie. As one of the new starters, he had the privilege of clean up. Reggie, Moose and Chuck struggled under the table's weight. 

“Hey, was this always here?” Clayton asked. 

“I dunno, it's old,” Reggie said dismissively. 

There was a deep imprint in the side of the table. It looked a little like a hand had grasped it there and squeezed. 

“Ready to go, Jug?” Archie asked, jogging up. 

“Yeah,” I said, tearing my eyes away from the table. “Let's go.” 

There was a moment, when we walked into Pop's looking for a table, when Betty looked at Archie and I looked at Betty and Veronica just sipped her milkshake and looked at us all. Then we walked over and joined them. 

There were four of us in that booth. But really there were three. A blonde. A brunette. A redhead. 

There was no me. Not in this world they were making. And little did we know what was going to unfold in that world in the weeks to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation at Pop Tate's. Betty and Jughead make a decision.
> 
> Huge thanks to fulldark for being an amazing beta!

__

_A certain kind of person lives in a small town, not all of them born and bred to it. From an outside perspective, Riverdale probably brings to mind a picture of domesticity- blonde hair, blue eyes, apple pie, picnics. Constant. Placid. Some of these refugees are looking for escape. For a new start. For freedom._

Others?

_A hunting ground._

~~

When Miss Grundy walked into Pop's on Fred Andrew's arm, hair loose, dress tight, a surly Archie Andrews trailing behind - Betty was out of the booth before I could even lay a hand on her collar. 

If I hadn't been so preoccupied with the drive-in, if I could have just shoved aside that litany of homeless, you're gonna be homeless, like, for real this time- 

I'm getting ahead of myself. 

Really, it started with Betty. 

Clearly. 

For anyone else it would have been a request. 

“Come write for the Blue and Gold,” she had said, eyes sparkling, ponytail swinging maddeningly behind her. 

I said yes. I always say yes. I can't think of a single time Betty has asked me for something that I haven't said yes. Then, of course, Dilton Doily opened his goddamn mouth and it took all of five minutes for Betty to figure out everything. Betty's a smart girl. It's hard to hide anything from her, if she really wants to know it. 

But the Twilight Drive-In's getting shut down. And I'm thinking yeah, okay, maybe I can do something about this one. Can't get my Dad to stop drinking. Can't get my sister back. Can't figure out whatever the fuck is happening to Archie. Maybe I can get a couple hundred signatures on a petition and do something about one fucking thing falling apart in my life. 

So we're in a booth at Pop's Diner and I'm ranting and Betts isn't saying much. Preoccupied, eyes far away. Thinking. Planning. Then Grundy, Archie, Mr. Andrews, calamity. 

“Can I talk to you? Outside? Just about something for school.” Betty smiled in her disarming way and Archie slouched out of the diner and into the parking lot, sharp little blonde trailing behind. I didn't miss the way his eyes flashed over at me before he pushed open the door, his dark eyebrows narrowed. 

I slumped over in the booth. 

“What's going on?” Veronica demanded. 

“I have a strong inkling,” I muttered nervously. I stayed in my seat. Whatever was going on with Archie, there were two things I figured. Number one, he clearly wanted it to stay as secret as possible- and you didn't get much more public than Pop's on a Saturday night. And number two, no matter what kind of thoughtless jackass he was being, he wouldn't hurt Betty. Ever. Probably. 

I peered out through the blinds. Betty was standing, legs braced, feet apart, arms crossed, speaking rapidly to Archie who was shaking his head. It was fine. This was all under control. 

And then, of course, Veronica Lodge slid out of the booth and walked out of the diner. 

“What was life like before she got here?” Kevin asked whimsically. “I honestly forgot.” 

“Easier,” I muttered darkly. 

“C'mon,” said Kevin, standing. “You're not going to be the last man standing.” And we went, but I didn't mean to go, you know, but we had to because Kevin went first. I paused in the doorway and I didn't _want_ to but I looked over a little to my left. Miss Grundy was still sitting, smiling with Mr. Andrews, coyly playing with the straw in her milkshake. As if she could sense that I was looking, she glanced up. Met my eyes. There was something so wrong there- heavy, predatory. She licked some whipped cream off her straw. I felt the hair on the back of my neck raise and I looked away.

I took a step outside and immediately could feel it. Something was wrong. 

Archie wasn't facing the girls anymore- he had turned toward Kevin and was standing, shoulders back, eyes flashing and suddenly Kevin just sort of- stopped, one foot in front of the other, eyes wide. He didn't even blink. 

“Get it under control, Andrews.” Veronica was saying, in a low voice. She took a step back. Sensible Veronica, recognizing when she was in over her head. She had played her hand and been outbid and was bowing out gracefully. You know who's not sensible? 

“Archie, stop!” Betty threw her arms in front of Kevin. “Whatever you're doing, just stop!” Her eyes met Archie's and she stayed there, trembling, even as Archie took another step toward Kevin, dreamlike, mouth a little open and his eyes were definitely gold now, no fooling, this was really happening. 

This was when a normal guy, a smart guy, would size up the situation and go, okay now, this isn't going where you want to go. Call 9-11. Check the milkshakes for hallucinogens. Hide under a booth and cry a little. 

I'm not really normal. I'm clearly not smart, because I didn't do any of that. I just threw myself in front of Betty like I was doing any good whatsoever. Looked Archie in the face, one arm stretched out behind me, keeping Betty in place, one hand stretched out to him, palm up like The Dog Whisperer or some nonsense. And he was getting way too close. 

“Arch. _Look at me._ ” I gritted my teeth. “This is not who you are. You do not _hurt_ people.” I kept eye contact, even as I thought about teeth, and muscles, and yellow eyes and probably dying a pretty bloody, painful, oozing and public death in front of a diner and this _girl_ and why the hell was I doing this-

Then Archie clutched his head, rocked in place, tore himself away from us. When he looked up, his eyes were brown. He was breathing hard. 

Betty ran forward, pushing past me to put her arms around him, to whisper “You're okay, you're okay,” in a litany into his ear as he broke into a cold sweat. 

Huh. Typical. It's the thought that counts? 

“What in the fuck?” Kevin whispered, bringing a trembling hand up to my shoulder from behind. I let him lean on me a moment, patted his hand absently. It's always nice to be appreciated. 

Veronica started to speak but changed her mind. Her eyes flickered behind me, which was the only warning I had before _Everything Stopped._

I'm not talking in metaphors here. The diner stopped. All tinkling silverware and china, quiet. Waitress stood, arm outstretched with a plate precariously balanced. Eyes fixed. Midstep. Midword. There was a car in the parking lot with the door open- Moose Mason, it looked like, and Midge. They didn't step out of the car- Midge was in the middle of putting on lipgloss in the rearview mirror and she just held it, perfectly poised. Moose sat, staring straight ahead. 

The door behind us opened, little door chimes so seemingly innocuous now echoing ominously in the silent street. I put my arms back, holding Kevin still behind me with a steel grip. It was as much to hold myself up as it was for him, to tell the truth. We were still right in front of the door. 

Miss Geraldine Grundy stepped out of the diner and into the streetlights, brushing past in a wave of scent that started pleasant- jasmine and maple - but something at the end, the underneath- that scent covered something dark. Something bloody. Something dead. Her long hair was loose and brushed my arm a little as she passed by so closely and it felt soft and smooth and silky but also wet and dirty and hideous- I shivered. The way she moved- slow, deliberate. Her mouth fixed in a smile. Slinky, Betty called it later. It should have been funny but it wasn't. Not the way Archie suddenly pushed Betty away and stood as if held up by a string, arms loose, head lolling. 

Betty, uncertain, stood beside him. 

Betty, I mouthed. My voice wasn't working. The air was too heavy. She wasn't looking at me.

“Betty,” I tried again. The word came out in a whisper. My heart was thudding in my chest. Grundy took another step closer. 

I took a breath. Licked my dry lips. Thought about tigers and dragons and princesses. 

“Betty!” I shouted, as loud as I could. Her eyes snapped to me. I reached back and grabbed Kevin by the shirt, dragging him along as I stepped, one, two, three, it felt like I was stepping toward my death, on broken glass, crawling on my knees, to get so close- and grabbed Betty by the upper arm, dragging her away from Archie, beside me. I stood there, swaying a bit from the effort, one hand on Betty's wrist, cutting my palm a little on her ID bracelet, and the other stretching out the collar of Kevin's D&G undershirt. 

Miss Grundy stopped. She turned a little on her heel to face me, idle smile on her face increasing.  
“Let's go,” she said to Arch. His head snapped in her direction, eyes gold. 

“No, Arch, come with us.” I said a little desperately. My voice sounded hoarse. It was hard to speak. “Your dad is waiting.” 

“C'mon Archie, please.” Betty said, voice low, understanding immediately. “Let's go back inside, we have to go inside.” 

Archie shook his head, his hands coming up to cover his face. 

“I can't, I can't,” he whispered, but he sounded like himself. 

“I'm your best friend, we're your best friends, don't leave us, buddy,” I said and a little piece of my mind was thinking goddammit, I don't even get to still be mad at you, do I? And Betty was talking too, but I wasn't listening, wasn't letting myself listen to whatever she might be saying. I already knew. 

A car door slammed. 

A plate broke from inside the diner. 

Moose Mason turned off his headlights. 

Whatever spell she had cast, it was wearing off. I risked a glance over and caught Miss Grundy's face change- anger and fear and comprehension all flashing at once. She turned her back. 

“Geraldine...” Archie said, his voice a little broken. He staggered and I hated her, hated her blindly more than someone old preying on someone very young, she was a monster and this was my _friend_ and it was evil and I would hurt her, if I could. 

“Tell your father thank you for a lovely evening,” she said tonelessly. Then Miss Grundy walked out into the night. 

“Archie...” I said, putting out an arm. He caught it, hand around my forearm and he squeezed- but gently. His face warred with confusion, anger, sadness, fear-

“ _I can't,_ ” he said, a little desperately, as though that explained things. Then he went back inside the diner to sit with his father. And the rest of us all stood under the neon lights, looking at each other. 

“I have no idea what the fuck hell is going on,” Kevin said slowly, voice shaking. “But you are so my next Man Crush Monday, Jug.” His face was a little pale, but he patted my arm as he moved out from behind me and his eyes were warm. I tried a smirk and faltered when Betty spoke. 

“I don't understand. What's wrong with him?” Betty whispered, looking at the ground. She was so lost- empty blue eyes filling with tears. She looked like a little doll, abandoned and cracked porcelain edges and I hated it. Betty is tough- powder puff outside, steel wrench in the middle. Archie was the only thing that snapped her in half like that. 

“You know what he is, don't you, Jug?” Veronica asked sweetly. I glared at her. 

“Juggie?” Betty was looking at me now- that look, the one that said please. 

For anyone else, it would have been a request. 

“He's a fucking vampire.” I said stupidly. 

Nobody laughed. 

Guilt. Innocence. Right. Wrong. Fact. Fiction. Around Riverdale, the lines began to blur. They became distorted. How far would we go to learn the truth? To avoid it? I had assumed that over the summer I had learned one of life's harsh truths- namely, friendships never last forever. 

I was still learning. We all were. 

When we left Pop Tate's, we never _said_ we weren't going to talk about it. It was just... heavily implied. Like a horror movie when the teens make a pact that leads to their untimely demise twenty years on. We all had our reasons. Kevin was scared- It got so bad that when Arch was taking off his sweater in US and World Government and his t-shirt rode up in a way that just had to be practiced, a conjuring trick with scotch tape and willpower, meant to expose just an improbable number of sculpted abdominals, Kevin actually turned a little green and shifted in his seat to face away. Clearly Veronica Lodge knew more than she was letting on- that or New York was a lot more wild than even HBO would have you believe, but if she wanted to maintain this dark and mysterious sexpot allure thing by not dragging us any further into this nightmare hellscape scenario, she'd have my blessing and praise. 

It would have all been so perfect if Tippi Hedren could have gotten the memo. 

“What are we going to do about this?” Betty was already leaning against my locker after school and I tried not to sigh and look put out, but honestly, I wasn't trying very hard. 

“I don't know that there's anything we can do about this _particular personal problem_.” I said emphatically. “If you hadn't noticed, Betts, Archie and the Grundster both had the spaghetti today. Loaded with garlic. And Grundy wears a gold cross, just like yours.” I tugged the chain around her neck gently and she stepped into it, so close that I could ruin my life with a breath or a word but she just kept looking at me with those eyes and - “Whatever mythos we're following here- we're in the dark. There's no way to know what's going to work and what's only going to make it worse.” 

“So you're giving up on him? I know how you feel about Arch-” 

I snorted without meaning to, right in her face. It was very romantic, you had to be there. She took a step back. 

“I _do_ know. We both love him-” 

I snorted again. 

“Okay, okay. Maybe not- exactly the same way, but he'd do the same for you. I know he let you down, but you know Arch. He's there for the big things.” 

“Sometimes the little things matter, Betts.” I said and my voice broke just enough that her head swung around and she put her hands up to my face and tilted my face until I looked her in the eyes and- 

Betty Cooper is the kind of person who just radiates niceness. It comes out of her pores. It floats around her like a cloud of perfume. Get within a three foot radius and it throws you for a loop- even for a fuck up like me, it feels like sitting in a patch of sunlight. The only thing annoying about it is that sometimes I don't want to feel better. Sometimes I need to be miserable, angry, depressed, selfish. It keeps me from realizing how completely and utterly terrifying it can all be. 

So she turns the full force of this Love-Love Beam of Joy and Goodness, her Care Bear Stare of giving a shit on me and I just broke. I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her in for a hug, a real hug, none of that soft, side three second kiddie bullshit, but like the kind of hug where you hold someone and let them know you need this, need some solid okay presence and Betty didn't hesitate for one second, just put her arms back around me and put her soft head on my shoulder and said “Yeah, it's okay, me too, Jug,” and I was fucking crying. 

“Yeah,” I said. “I love him. And you love him. And he loves us. Let's go find that dumbass ginger.” 

But, of course, it wasn't that simple. 

Never is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback = life. Comments please!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation. Aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously would not have been anywhere near as good or cohesive without my beta fulldark. A thousand thanks would not be enough. Any mistakes are mine and intentional. Probably.

_What is the thing that motivates us? According to Maslow, there is a neatly stacking pyramid of priorities, a geometric measurement system for what we value most. Self preservation. Continuation of the species. But this doesn’t explain conviction in the face of adversity- the artist, the activist, willing to burn themselves alive for an abstract ideal._

_Friendship or love. Fight or flight. Choices we live with,_ always. 

~~

The plan was, simply enough, to corner Archie by his locker and strong arm him into playing hooky. We would go back to Betty’s, where the house would be empty for the day. We would make chocolate chip cookies and make him talk- use Our Powers Combined to form Captain Friendship, save Archie using sneakily delivered common sense and home baked goods. You knew things were serious if Betty Cooper was advocating a skip day- murderous, vampire, psychic control kind of bad. I mean, first block was AP Chem. 

The plan went, as most things I am involved with, completely to shit from the get go. 

“Archie didn't come home last night,” Betty said, already waiting by my locker when I sauntered down the hall. My hands went self-consciously to tuck my wet hair further underneath my beanie before the words registered. Her face was flushed, bags under her wild eyes. She was breathing hard, like a deer, paused and tharn before the headlights of reality, and looked as though at the slightest sound- the bell, a baying hound- she would alight into the woods, never to be seen again. 

I took her gently by the arm and steered her down the hall, into the office of the Blue and Gold. I left the lights low, pulled the shade over the window of the door and sat her down in the corner, out of view and knelt beside her chair, looking up at her, always looking up at her. Her hands formed tight little fists on themselves and I smoothed out her fingers firmly, running my thumb over her fingernails, so short, so practical, until I saw her loosen, relax, _breathe._

The bell rang and she didn’t startle. I moved my hand back to my pocket, leaned against the arm of the chair next to her, my leg bumping her knee accidentally on purpose and said “Okay.” 

“Okay, start over. Tell me everything.” 

Betty had walked home after cheer practice, noticing that Arch and the football team were still knee deep in run drills- typically, she explained, they got out about half an hour after the girls did. She went home, popped a lasagna in the oven, then noticed the porch light come on. No one had let out Vegas, so she stopped by- a Tupperware container full of layered pasta. 

“Thanks,” Fred said. “We'll eat it when Archie gets back from practice.” 

“He's not back yet?” Betty fished. “It's kinda late.”

Fred shrugged in a non-committal way and shut the door. About then, her parents had gotten home and she'd had to trot out the good little school girl routine- what did you _do_ today, Elizabeth, did you talk to _Awful Archie_ or _That Lodge Girl,_ did you make any _mistakes-_ and when she went to bed the lights were down in Archie's room and she just kind of assumed he had gone to sleep or passed out on the couch downstairs.

When she woke up, the bed was empty. Vegas was still whining at the door. She caught Fred on his way to work. He said Archie had left to go live with his mother, in Chicago, and got into the truck, never even pausing in his stride.

“Arch wouldn't have left without saying anything,” I said immediately. 

“The big game is Saturday,” she said. “He wouldn't have let them all down like that. Something... something's _happened,_ Jug. I think with what happened outside Pop's- I think _she-_ I think this is checkmate.” 

Betty's voice dropped to a whisper when she talked about Grundy and I couldn't stand it- I grabbed her shoulders and stared into her face. 

“Don't talk about her like that- like there's nothing we can do. It's not checkmate, Betts, it's check.”

She stilled, then focused on me slowly, like surfacing from water. For a moment it was- foreign, like the darkness hid the real color of her eyes and they were so green. Deep, deep green. 

She leaned forward. For one wild, improbable moment my heart skipped- was this-?

But no. She leaned against my shoulder lightly and my hands came up, stroking the nape of her neck under the curls of her hair and I thought yeah, okay, Jones, don't get excited, don't get ahead of yourself, this is fine. This is good. This is fine. 

“We need to make a list,” Betty said, voice muffled in my shirt and I couldn't help laughing because man, this was fucked and that was _so Betty._

“Okay,” I said, pulling back. “Let's make a list.” 

We figured out a plan to split up after second period, get what we needed for Operation Save the Ginger ( _take 2!_ ) and meet back up a little after sunset. We met at her place because it was easier than explaining that I didn't have a place. While she went to the hardware store and dug around the garage, I had to go the place I had abandoned, the place that if I'd had a choice, she'd never even know about. 

My dad wasn't home. Surprise, surprise. I got what I needed and got out. Once a kid from Southside, always a kid from Southside - but something tells me that even if Betty had been born in a broken down trailer with a mom who never even finished sophomore year that she'd still have been Betty- her essential Betty-ness, concern for others, neatness of person, fucking diamond in the rough shining through- these were her, and I would know her wherever she'd go. You meet a girl like Betty and you think, huh. What a sheltered little existence she's got to lead. She must have parents that really fixed her up good, set her up for life. Then you meet Alice and Hal on a bad day and you wonder what the hell kind of Teflon she's made out of that none of that sticks to her.

Which was probably why I was so completely taken off guard when I saw her leaning against the shadows of the shed behind her house. 

I said her name, like it wasn't her, like it was someone I thought I knew, a long time ago, in a fever dream. I don't know where she got the black wig, the red lipstick- the knee high leather boots or the corset. Slung low on black jeans, artfully torn to allow for full range of movement and full range of moving eyes was a pleather bandoleer- wooden stakes, the kind that hold down errant tents or picket fences, held neatly in place by small removable straps. 

She looked at me- green on black on green. I touched her bare shoulder. 

“Re-purposed Halloween costume,” she said suddenly and blushed. She shrugged on a sweater- light blue cardigan, matching her eyes. “It... seemed like the thing to do. I don't want to be _me_ going in there, you know?”

“Quite the disguise, Betty the Vampire slayer,” I deadpanned. “Should I have gone blonde for the occasion?” 

Her gaze was direct, appraising. Then she reached out quickly and swept the beanie off my head and reached for my pocket to tuck it away. I shied to the left, snatching it from her fingers before she got too close, twisting to avoid the contact. At her sudden, quick start I gave a forced laugh. 

“Miss Cooper,” I said. “Are you flirting with me? Because I'm pretty sure as my editor at the Blue and Gold that this constitutes as workplace harassment.” 

“File a complaint with HR,” she said breezily. We laughed. I put the beanie away, next to the gun in my pocket. 

Grundy's door was unlocked. 

“Do you think this could be more of a trap if she had left a sign saying 'this is a trap?'” I whispered. Betty hushed me and pushed her way inside. I caught her sleeve in my fingers and was swept along. Par for the course, really. 

A sound. We followed it- maybe a thump? 

A dark, open doorway. I reached for the lights but she caught my hand, shook her head. When she headed downstairs, she kept hold of my hand and I squeezed back. 

The basement. 

Of course it was the basement. 

Where else would it be? 

The door shut behind us and the lights came up. 

It was actually a cute little rec room. Ping pong table, foosball, nice TV. Squashy looking couch- kind of place you'd hope you'd have friends whose parents were cool enough to set aside for teen use. Mini fridge, little neon signs. Archie, chained to the wall by his wrists. 

Geraldine Grundy in a red teddy, sprawled along the green nap of the enormous, expensive heavy oak pool table, regarding us calmly. 

Betty reached for a stake. Grundy was on her in an instant, examining the item closely before crushing it to dust in her palms. 

“Cheap quality- mostly filler dust, weak pine.” She looked at us pityingly. “You really didn't do your research, did you? I mean, we do always tell you kids – your information is only as good as your sources.” 

“We're here for Archie,” Betty said, her shoulders shaking. Anger? Fear? Impossible to tell. I held very still. 

“Betty...?” Archie stirred, raised his head a little. 

“Don't worry, my pet.” Grundy was there, running fingernails through his scalp and he leaned into it. “A promise is a promise.” Her eyes shot up to meet mine. “I promised not to hurt his friend,” she explained, an aside. 

“I didn't promise anything,” Betty hissed and sprang towards them. I took a step forward, caught at her sleeve- ended up with an armful of cashmere. 

A tangle so brief- could it be called a struggle? Practiced, fluid movements. Grundy held her arms curled around Betty's head, around her neck- _her,_ still, eyes going dark, flat. 

“I said-” Grundy gave Betty a little shake “ _friend._ One friend. So you two decide. Which one of you is really his friend? Because only one of you will be leaving here alive.” 

With a startling suddenness, Grundy ran a fingernail across the top of Betty's chest, just across her collarbone. A thin line of blood appeared. Archie quit fidgeting. His head came up slowly. His nostrils flared. 

Grundy pushed Betty toward the wall and Archie caught her in his manacled arms.

“Don't,” I said, like I was fucking helping, hands fumbling in my pocket, palms slick with sweat. Archie shook from the strain of it but listened, brought her no closer. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the veins standing out in his neck. My hands were shaking. 

“He'll kill her- he can't help it. He doesn't want to, but there you go. You _can_ shoot me,” Grundy said dispassionately, waving a negligent hand toward me, where I was aiming the gun, finally free of my hoodie- “But then he'll feed. Can you get off another shot before she dies? And even if you can- will you? Well, you're a resourceful type. You managed a real weapon at least. Like father, like son. I think you could do it, if you had to. Of course-” she smiled with a mouthful of teeth- “you won't get a second shot off before _I_ get to her. Believe me, Archie is the easy way out... a much kinder death.” 

“What do you want?” I asked, voice low. 

“Make the choice.”

“Why?” I asked. 

Archie's head dipped dangerously low to the blood soaking the front of her corset. He was whispering, a litany of _I'm sorry don't hate me I'm sorry I love you_ but Betty was just standing very still, muscles tense, watching me. 

“Because he'll know how serious I am. She'll be right next door, completely paralyzed by her love for him. He won't have to live with guilt of killing her with his own hands. And after you... he will never. Cross. Me. Again.” 

I raised the gun. 

“Don't.” Betty said, and her voice was strange. 

Archie opened his mouth. 

I fired. 

I would like to tell you what happened next. Describe the epic battle between good and evil for the very soul of our dearest friend. How I ended up sprawled on a dirt trail down by Sweetwater River, going in and out of consciousness while Betty screamed in my face and Archie lay curled in on himself, covered in blood- Betty, covered in blood. 

Unfortunately, my memory's a little hazy. 

I hear that kind of thing happens sometimes, if you shoot yourself in the head. 

This wasn't the first time I'd had the thought. 

Let's talk about the summer. 

My father was drinking and my mother was crying and my sister was just sitting, tight lipped and dry eyed, looping records from Dad's old collection like she was trying to find the secret of him there, like a code, and me just in a dark room like it wasn't even a cliché anymore, I was sucking the light and life out just by being there. 

Betty was leaving for the summer and she was so bright and hopeful and bubbling over with life that it was like I was a heat seeking missile, making time and making space to find her to spend every minute left with her before she went- like I knew this sweet, adorkable girl was going to come back polished up and sophisticate and sweep freckle face off his feet and into this Hollywood cliché. She was growing up and I was growing over, parallel to the ground and drooping under the weight of myself. The night before she was going to leave all three of us were supposed to meet at Pop's and go to the swimming hole, down where the creek widened and no one ever went but us- it had no appeal for other kids, it was muddy and cold and the babes all went to the Y or maybe to Reggie's pool parties if you were hip enough to get invited. 

So we sat at the booth at Pop's until her shake melted and I finished it, pragmatically. She looked out the window for a long time and I fidgeted a little in my seat and thought about if I had enough for a ticket to the drive in or if I should save it just in case Mom was working late and Dad forgot to feed Jelly but I sure as hell wasn't going home just yet- 

“Let's go,” Betty said abruptly, standing and leaving the money on the table. It was enough to cover my share too. She had a bad habit of doing that and I had a bad habit of letting her. I made a joke about it, every now and then, to cover up the awkward but she would just smile a little vaguely like it didn't matter- like she didn't mind covering for a friend, like she seemed to think my company was worth the price. 

“Where?” I asked, at a loss. 

She was looking at her phone- Instagram timeline, Reggie's pool party. In the background, behind Reg's perfectly coiffed hair, was a familiar redhead, his arm around Ginger Lopez in a bikini. 

“Swimming,” she said faintly, with a smile. 

We went to the creek. 

It would have been funny, probably, her head down and hair up, heading down the trail with a purpose. Me, falling behind, hands stuffed awkwardly into my board short pockets, surly, hat on despite the sweet sticky heat, completely lost on this territory of conversation. I'm sorry? Arch is being a douche? He does this to me too, you're not special? You are special? I'm scared to be alone with you? 

Betty laid out the old quilt, ripped with a strawberry pattern, and set out the zip cooler full of ginger ale and club sandwiches because we just ate but she knows me so she brought extra anyway, even though she'll only nibble a quarter later, to be polite. There's a bag of marble brownies that she knows I like, knows Jelly likes even though she's only met my sister twice, in passing, and I knew she'd say she's watching her girlish figure and make me take the bag home with me and there was a lump in my throat, an emptiness in the pit of my stomach that is more than food because she didn't say anything about this, because this isn't pity it's just she's just paying. 

Here's the thing: I don't swim. For one thing, I'd have to take off my hat. 

Truthfully, there wasn't always money for stuff like drive ins, mini golf. Swim lessons. When we had to make a choice, it wasn't a choice. I walked Jelly to the Y twice a week all summer. Sat in the bleachers with a book. Walked her home again. When we came to the swimming hole, I put my feet in the edge and ate snacks. Watched Betty and Archie splash around, dive deep, sneak long looks, arms around waists. But Archie wasn't here and I was at a loss for what to do. 

I made a mistake. A tree branch snapped underfoot. That was it. It could have been a deer, I don't know. I was too focused in the moment, watching Betty sitting in her swimsuit, a two piece, cute checked red with cherries on the front, shaking out her blonde hair over her shoulders. But I heard the sound and that part of my brain underneath whispered _it's him, it's Arch and she's gonna look over and see him and he's gonna look over and see you and he's gonna know_ and - 

So I jerked, turned away from the curve of her shoulder so hard that I slipped. I slid down the short embankment and into the water. 

It was cold. Really cold. So cold I couldn't breathe. Couldn't imagine a time I had ever taken a breath, effortless, effervescent And it was dark, murky- some color between black and green and gray and brown. I don't know how long I was out. It felt like forever. 

I opened my eyes and I was on the bank and Betty's mouth was on mine. 

I coughed. Sputtered up dark water. She burst into tears. 

I guess you could say my first kiss was a lifesaver. 

Her cell phone rang. It was Archie. 

“We're on the way home,” Betty said, eyes sliding up to the sky, trying to calm herself. But when she hung up she made no move to pack up and go. I ate a sandwich. It was getting colder. 

“We should probably go,” I said finally, after I saw her suppress a shiver. 

“Do we have to?” Betty asked, wistfully. She was small and wet and cold and freaked. 

“No,” I said finally. “We don't have to.” 

And we stayed in the woods until morning, eating snacks and talking a little but mostly just thinking. We fell asleep on the quilt some time after three and when I woke up, hands tangled in her hair, her breath heavy on the side of my throat, I spent twenty minutes getting free without waking her, cleaning up the site and willing myself to stop shaking, it didn't mean anything, _stop shaking._

It was awkward. It had to be. I don't know what she told Mamma Cooper the next day but I do know she got on the plane without her cell phone- without her laptop, without any ties to home. By the time the few thin messages started trickling in, we'd had to cancel the cell plan. The internet. 

Probably it was the day that Mom took Jelly and left. 

One bedroom, a tight squeeze for two. Impossible for three, she said. I would have slept on the floor. Under the bed. The hallway. The front porch. 

Only two years till school gets out. College. 

It's temporary. 

Isn't everything? 

I wanted to get out of dodge for the weekend. Made plans with Archie and watched them fall apart. Probably for the best. Dad drank until I thought he'd stopped breathing. Till I turned him on his side to keep him from choking on it. Covered him with the jacket I hated. Found the gun in the pocket. 

And before you ask, it isn't the one that killed Jason. Wrong size, wrong bullets. I could tell at a glance. Once a kid from Southside, always a kid from Southside. 

I just held it a minute, standing in a trashed, dirty trailer and I had to think very hard. 

Impulse. 

I'm not impulsive. 

I hid it in a shoe box in the shed out back. I buried it in a pile of bricks and we didn't talk about it. I moved into the drive in two days later. 

I knew she was back in town- how could you not know? But I avoided her, studied her schedule closely so that I could skirt it. At first it was embarrassment- I had nearly drowned, I had slept warm against her on the last good night I'd had left in my life, I was pathetic, needy, sad. And then my feelings for her were growing so large in my mouth that I couldn't trust that they weren't going to give me away- hello, how are you, the four minutes I watch you in the cafeteria line are the highlight of my day, you are the best part of my life and I miss you so badly-

No. 

Then she found me at Pop's. 

Everything was jumbled together. Pink dress. Headlights. Blue eyes? Green eyes? Teeth. Blood. A gun shot when I pulled the trigger. A small quick girl in a cheap black wig, lashing out, getting free. The pool table, flipped over in the struggle, at an angle. It was missing a leg. Blood, too dark to be normal, human, splashing. A death cry around the sharp splinter of oak sunken through flesh now old, wizened, gray. Betty, panting. 

Then it was cold. Really cold. So cold I couldn't breathe. Couldn't imagine a time I had ever taken a breath, effortless, effervescent And it was dark, murky- some color between black and green and gray and brown. I don't know how long I was out. It felt like forever. 

I opened my eyes and I was on the trail. 

She was yelling. Archie had his hands over his ears and he was rocking a little in on himself, the horror and the pain of it all stark on his face- was that a black eye?- and Betty was yelling at me-

You will get up _Forsythe Pendleton Jones_ you will _stand up_ and you will _breathe goddammit-_

I breathed. 

Her cell phone rang. It was Veronica. 

“I think you better answer that,” I said, coughing up black. 

Betty stared down at me and burst into tears. 

Veronica opened the door in a gold silk kimono, purple chemise, perfectly winged eyeliner. She took us in- Archie, shirtless, shoeless, eyes glazed. Betty, wig askew, red lipstick smeared on one side almost up to her ear, soaked in the blood of some other worldly creature, and me, no weirder than usual (still pretty damn weird), tugging down my beanie over the surprisingly shallow, bloody place in my temple where I had managed to even fuck up a noble sacrifice. Somehow. 

“Smithers made cocoa,” Veronica said, leading the way back to the kitchen. 

Archie made it inside the door before he collapsed.

“Not this again,” I groaned, tugging futilely at his forearm, trying to get him to the couch. 

“Again?” Veronica asked sharply. 

“He did this two weeks ago at Pop's,” I said. 

“He needs blood.” she said bluntly. “He's holding himself back by a thread as it is. And it'll have to be a regular thing.” 

Archie's eyes on the curve of her white throat. I swallowed. Betty reached up slowly to pull off her wig. She shrugged off her blue cardigan, moved her blonde tendrils out of the way. Opened her mouth to speak. 

“No,” I said firmly. 

“No?” Betty echoed, brow furrowing suddenly, stubbornly. 

“No,” I said, to Archie this time who had managed to prop himself against the side of the couch looking pale and wan and rather sorry for himself and I had been shot, okay, and this just _wasn't the time._

“I have watched you drain every little bit of happiness and life out of her for the last ten years. You don't get her literal flesh and blood too. Me. It's mine. You take mine.”

“Jug-” Betty tried to speak. 

“I'm homeless,” I said abruptly,“I sleep in a closet at the school when I can break in and hide. Sometimes, if the weather is good, I sleep on a park bench. The one in the park by Thornhill because it's creepy and nobody goes there. I can move in here, you can give your dad the sob story and I'll pay rent in the red stuff, but _you don't touch Betty._ ” I said emphatically. 

Veronica sipped her cocoa. 

We got Archie onto a stool in the kitchen (leather, darling, much easier to get the blood spots off than _linen_ ) and I stood close, wrist up toward his mouth. 

“Can't he just stab me or something?” I grumbled. Betty was sitting in the other stool, pulled a little away. She was oddly quiet, probably pissed that I was making decisions without her and that was fine, whatever it takes for her to be happy and healthy and she can hate me if she's safe, that's enough. 

“Natural anesthetic and analgesic in the saliva,” Veronica shrugged. “Promotes healing, red blood cell production, and numbs the pain. There are.... some side effects, ” 

“This is beyond gross,” I muttered, looking away as Archie bit down. His eyes were chocolate apologies and it was making me a bit queasy, watching the teeth sink in. “I can't believe people write trashy romance novels about this.”

“Are you okay?” Veronica asked Betty in a low voice, hand on her pale shoulder, kneading slightly. 

“It's a lot,” she said in a low voice. 

“He doesn't know yet,” Veronica said reassuringly.  
A rush.

Color.

How else to describe it?

Cinnamon and raspberries. I was back in the woods, laying on the blanket next to Betty but she wasn't asleep. She was awake, eyes opened to the sky as I lovingly stroked her hair in my sleep and she was holding still, a little smile on her face, as though a bird or a bunny rabbit was trying to make friends. 

This time, when I started to pull away, she caught my arm and I caught my breath. 

“Let go, Archiekins.” Veronica's voice was firm but far away. “Jughead, move.” 

“Don't go,” Dream Betty said soft into my ear. I stayed perfectly still. Let her tug my arms closer. I felt warm and drowsy. 

“Betty...” Veronica's voice was a warning. 

“I'm on it.”

Then I felt myself being pulled backwards- a sharp yank, a popping noise. 

I was sitting on the kitchen tile floor, Betty behind me. She had grabbed me and yanked, pulling me forcibly away from Archie's grip and slipped so we both sprawled on the floor. 

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” I joked uneasily, trying to roll away. She held me in place, raising tear filled blue eyes to mine. 

“ _Why_ do you keep doing this?” she practically wailed. 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Veronica grab Archie by the wrist and drag him out of the kitchen. 

“Uh.” I wet my lips, not sure what she meant. 

“Acting like it doesn't matter what happens to you!” She exploded, answering a question I didn't ask. 

“Why-” I started to ask, but she didn't let me finish. 

“You're self destructing and I hate it, Jug, I can't lose you, you're-you're-” she was stuttering over her words, looking up through her lashes. 

I reached up, dizzying, maybe blood loss, _maybe not_ to cup the side of her face and she looked at me, eyes watering, mouth firm. 

“Don't you _dare_ kiss me right now, I am so _mad_ at you-” and I grinned, wide, happy, fearless.

I must have blacked out or something because it got a little fuzzy right then- adrenaline, anemia, little flashes of something-  
_something important, something I-_

I don't remember. 

I remember Betty, Archie. The fight. Veronica's kitchen. 

I remember Betty seizing on the floor, I remember screaming for help. 

Once Arch had put her on the couch, we met with Veronica in the other room to talk in low murmurs. 

“It's too much, Jughead.” Veronica said, looking uneasy for once. “She's a mess. This is pulling too much to the surface too quickly. She's not going to be able to handle it.”

“I don't understand,” I said weakly. 

“I think I-” Archie spoke for the first time, then flinched under my hard look. “I think I can do something about it. If she wants. Make them... go away. Just the recent stuff.” 

Yes, Betty said, when she was awake. Yes. And Archie's eyes went gold, holding my hand on the left and Veronica's on the other side. Afterwards, looking out the window, I put my fingers to the marks on my wrist. They were already fading. Euphoria, for a minute. 

“Was I crazy?” I asked aloud. 

“No,” said Veronica from behind. I couldn't even bring it in me to be surprised. “There's something there. Something big, with both of you. You just- you just have to wait. She isn't ready yet. Give her time and then...”

“Yeah, of course.” I swallowed hard. “Whatever she needs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suspense....


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta love for fulldark <3

Rumors hit a small town like water on a grease fire- innocuous but explosive. Rumor had it that Geraldine Grundy got into some trouble. Maybe she ran into a Southside Serpent. Made a dangerous boyfriend. Had a too liberal definition for the term _extra credit._ I didn't ask Veronica Lodge what she did after we left that night, but the next day Geraldine Grundy's car and belongings were missing, and there was a neatly typed letter of resignation citing personal problems. I also didn't ask Veronica what she is or what she knows. She'll talk about it when the moment's right, when the drama is high and there's a wind at her back that makes her cloak flutter just so. I won't give her the satisfaction of begging. 

Archie is quiet. He has a hard time adjusting sometimes. He took a chunk out of the sink the other day just leaning a little too hard. He's pulled three doors off their hinges. He only needs a little blood now, maybe once a week. 

“Geraldine needed a lot more. She fed almost every day,” Archie said wonderingly, after a feeding. 

“I got that good Jones blood, premium stuff,” I said breezily, bandaging my wrist. “Besides, she was like 100 years old? Geriatrics probably need more.” He rolled his eyes but didn't respond. 

Maybe it's weird, but it doesn't bother me much. He has assured me that it's quite harmless, that the things she'd had to do to make what he is now were... more involved. After that first night, he doesn't use a glamour anymore. I know that he knows what I had seen in it, and I can't bear the beautiful lie again- or to talk about the painful truth. Just like part of him is still a little lost in that fever dream, I think, that Grundy seduced him with. There are things about him now that he can't change- power he can't control. Things he lost. He doesn't ask and I don't either. 

I still see Betty. We have a few classes together and wave to each other in the hallway. We meet twice a week at the Blue and Gold. I'm still in love with her. 

There are moments, though, where the light hits her eyes just right- where she tilts her head to the side and looks at me in a way that is almost too sharp. She doesn't ask the questions. She doesn't have to, she's smart. You can't keep anything from Betty- not if she really wants to know. 

All I can do is wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, there's a sequel.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if anyone is going to like this one, so feedback is appreciated. I still plan to do more canon compliant stuff with Riverdale, too but I'm kind of obsessed with this idea.


End file.
